BY KARENLYN BARONE
My mother, Genevieve, returned to the work force when my sister and I were in middle school. Talented and skilled with a needle and thread, she worked for a local decorator. Many afternoons, I would stop in on my way home from school and watch in wonder as she made flat yards of fabric into folds and pleats of wonderful window fashion. My mother worked in that shop for countless years, until the owner literally closed the doors.
My sister, Christine, is a pediatric nurse. She was a dynamic and devoted charge nurse at South Nassau Communities Hospital for years until she became pregnant with her first child. Upon her return to the work force, she took a nursing position at the Association for the Help of Retarded Children in Brookville, and has been there ever since, some 18-plus years.
It is fair to say that I'm the most unsettled, career-wise, of the family. I started out acquiring knowledge that would plant me firmly in nursery education, only to find, once I started to sprout buds, that I didn't like it all that much. During my working years, and they add up to quite a few, I have had many jobs - some great, some I would like to forget. I have been employed at various times as a credit manager for both a national dental company and a paper manufacturer, an accounts payable maven for an endodontic office, a job coach for autistic children, the front desk puppy at an animal hospital, a real estate receptionist, and demo diva at Trader Joe's.
While finishing up my degree in English just a few years ago, I was enrolled in an autobiographical writing course, and the professor asked to speak with me. Resigned that she probably wanted to point out that I was the oldest student she had ever taught, I was thrilled beyond belief when she told me what was really on her mind.
Simply put, she said, "I think you have talent. You can definitely write, and I believe you can have a career in writing."
It took that one person's faith in me to make me realize my lifelong dream - writing.
Cliff and Stuart Richner, the publishers of this newspaper, took another leap of faith. They also decided I could write, and that they wanted me to write for them. So, for the past three years and nine months, my byline has humbly graced the pages of this publication. For two of those years I have served as its editor. This was beyond my imagining while I was dishing out dessert samples at Trader Joe's.
In that time I have learned more than my share about the newspaper business, community involvement and dreaded deadlines. As much as I adore this job and all it brings with it, it's time to say farewell. This issue is my last as editor.
Heartfelt thanks to the mayors, trustees, school superintendents, school board members, teachers, students, senior citizens, children, scouts, clergy, veterans, musicians, artists, athletes, business owners, lawmakers, record-breakers and back-breakers who have shared their stories with me. Your commitment and dedication to that which you believe in and serve awes me. Thank you for trusting me with your tales. I hope I've served you well. I hope those who will miss me will be happy for me and, in turn, I recognize that those who will not miss me will be the happiest. I can live with that.
I'm on to a new career with different challenges, a job I feel blessed to accept. If I have touched you in some way, that's good, but the fact that you have all touched me forever is even better.
Thanks to my sons; my rock, Kevin; my boys at Lynbrook DPW; sweet Nicole, my favorite other editor; the Schnitz, the best damn reporter I've ever had half of; Andrew McClure, an editor's dream, my wise-beyond-his-years executive editor, John O'Connell, my relentless copy editor, Jim Harmon, who taught me I know nothing about commas; and the production staff, which did all the hard work, making my job look easy.
Thanks to B-Dezz, who has believed in me all along; to my mother, whose innate strength continues to guide me; to the Richners, who welcomed me into their family; and to you, the readers, who welcomed my words into your homes, and hopefully your hearts. You, above all else, inspired me to try to be the best I could possibly be.
Like an old friend, you'll still hear from me. The Richners have graciously offered me the opportunity to continue my column here, and I've accepted. I can't leave altogether, not after all we've been through - fires, floods, births, deaths, graduations, incarcerations, weddings, court trials, blood drives, fund-raisers, and all manner of other life-changing events. I'm so glad my wandering ways led me to all of you.
